


Of Angels and Bow Ties

by vindobonensis



Category: Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: Amy Ships It, Crossover, M/M, Sam Ships It, Season 6ish, Slight Destiel in Chapter 2, Superwholock, The Doctor meets the Winchesters, Weeping Angels - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindobonensis/pseuds/vindobonensis
Summary: Just another hunt in just another haunted house. But the Winchesters' plans for a quiet salt'n'burn go up in flames when a mysterious blue box crashes into the middle their case. Complications and craziness ensue!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post: https://ifunny.co/fun/grFwb7eD2

 

An eery silence lay over the unkept garden of the haunted house that stretched out in front of Sam and Dean. The full moon hung low in the sky, unobscured by clouds, and its milky light cast gnarled shadows from the ancient trees onto the litter-strewn ground. As the brothers approached the ruins of the once-magnificent mansion, the only living things seemed to be the lights of their torches flickering across dead plants and the grey limbs of marble statues reaching out of mutant bushes.  

 

"Well isn’t this just peachy," Dean commented sardonically, pulling his jacket tighter around himself and glaring at the toppled statue of a greek Satyr.  

 

The temperatures had dropped well below zero on this clear January night and Dean could see his brother’s breath billow in front of him as Sam let out an annoyed huff and pushed aside a few dead branches hanging at eye-level. Well, his eye level anyways. 

 

"We’ve been over this, Dean," the younger Winchester sighed, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral. „I know it’s freaking cold, but there are disappearances in this town and all evidence points to this place. I’d also like to be back at the motel, but who knows when the next teenage couple decides this is a good place to make out?“ 

 

"Well if they’re stupid enough to try and screw outside at these temperatures, I’d say let Darwin have his way," Dean muttered, annoyed, but nonetheless following his brother towards the house. So what if bitching a little to Sam made him feel better about having to freeze his balls off? They’d get the job done. 

 

Carefully stepping over the trunk of a fallen beech tree, Dean pulled the EMF-meter he’d been carrying all night from his pocket. It was mostly quiet, occasionally giving an unenthusiastic buzzing sound, but utterly failed to indicate any sort of ghostly activity. 

 

"Anything?" Sam asked, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow. He’d stopped beside a particularly ugly statue - A friggin angel riding a horse? Seriously? - and was fishing around his inner pocket for his notes. 

 

"Nope," Dean answered, "Whatever this is - it ain’t a ghost." 

 

Shrugging in resignation that this case wouldn’t turn out to be a simple salt’n’burn after all, Sam turned his flashlight onto the small notebook in his hands. "It has to be here though. The first vic’s car was found just down the street. Then those kids’ friends said that last they’d heard of them was that they were gonna check out this place. And that lady’s phone? Last GPS signal came from right here." 

 

Normally Dean wouldn’t have minded his brother’s habit of recapping the case when they were stuck in a dead end. But normally, he could also feel his fingers and the tips of his ears. "Yes Sammy!" he snapped. "I know - and I’m with you. But whatever is disappearing those people ain’t out here. So - let’s just get inside the house and gank the son of a bitch so I can defrost back at the motel. You said the owner was some sort of collector weirdo - could be a cursed object or some other sort of shit. C’mon, let’s move it." 

 

Clapping his hands together to get some semblance of feeling back into them - and animate his kid-brother to move - Dean stomped off towards the house, leaving Sam to hurry after him with a groan. 

 

——

 

The ancient oak door swung open on its rusty hinges with an ominous creak and both Winchesters rolled their eyes. Even after all their years of hunting, this just felt ridiculously like stepping into some sort of B-grade horror movie. 

 

The interior of the house was dusty and dilapidated. According to Sam’s conscientious research, it had been abandoned a few decades before, when its owner - an eccentric millionaire with a penchant for collecting anything strange and out of the ordinary - had vanished over night just after buying the place. Without an heir to be found, the property had been abandoned. Even now, half-unpacked boxes and unopened crates doubtlessly containing valuable artwork stood untouched in the hallway where the movers had left them. Tools from the workmen charged with finishing the villa’s renovation before the arrival of its new tenant were strewn across the living room. 

 

"Well," Dean muttered mutinously, kicking an Asian-looking ornament that had fallen onto the floor god knows how many years ago, "finding a cursed object in here’s gonna be a walk in the park." 

 

Sam closed his eyes, counted to ten and breathed out slowly before turning back towards his brother. 

 

"Dean -" he started, fully intent on telling him to shove the bitchy attitude up his rear. But he was interrupted - by a very odd noise from the first floor. On first instinct, Sam would have pegged it as the rattling breaths of an injured monster or a ghost, but after a few moments, its volume increased and it sounded almost like -

 

"Dude - are those _breaks?_ " Dean asked incredulously, seconds before there was a very loud crash upstairs. 

 

With reflexes honed to perfection by years of frequent life-or-death situations, both Winchesters went for the guns tucked into their waistbands, falling into a defensive stance and backing up against the wall. 

 

Both brothers kept very still and very quiet as the echo of splintering wood and breaking glass that had accompanied the turmoil on the floor above them died in the empty corridors. With baited breath they waited for the subtle creak of footsteps on the rotting stairs, for the bloodthirsty snarling of any sort of monster, for the EMF-meter to flare into life. Instead - 

 

"No no no no no! Not here! What are we doing here?!" an indignant voice cried out. 

 

"What do you mean? Where are we?" a second voice soon followed. 

 

"America, I should think. But why? why did you take us here, girl? We were heading for the pyramids, remember?" 

 

"Oh will you stop petting it. Why did we end up here? And where exactly is 'here'"? 

 

A third - more timid-sounding - voice joined the conversation: "Did we - did we just crash-land in some poor bloke’s house?!" 

 

Sam and Dean remained pressed against the wall, exchanging confused glances. Dean lowered his gun slightly but raised his left eyebrow incredulously in compensation "Dude, are those guys -?" 

 

"British," Sam supplied weakly, equally confounded. Whatever was happening here, however, those people had just appeared upstairs - there was no mistaking that kind of an accent. 

 

"Nah, I shouldn’t think so. This place looks empty. Old. Haunted. Ohhhhhhhh - a _haunted_ house. Love those! Always something fun to find! Come on then you lot - let’s have a look around!“ 

 

This declaration - spoken by the first, decidedly overenthusiastic-sounding voice - was followed by a pair of heavy footsteps unceremoniously thumping across the ceiling and towards the staircase. After another few confused shouts ("Doctor? Doctor!", "Amy? Amy!") two more pairs followed. 

 

Snapping back to attention immediately, Sam and Dean raised their weapons once more, releasing the safety catches just in case. If they had learned anything over the course of their hunting careers, it was that it was best to be prepared and that just because something was decidedly weird did not mean that it wasn’t dangerous. 

 

A second later, a man in a bow tie came running down the stairs with a goofy grin plastered across his face, his thumbs playing with the suspenders peaking out from below his tweed jacket. The second he saw the Winchesters and their weapons, though, he stopped short, backtracked a few steps and raised his hands. 

 

"America!" he declared, just as his two companions - a young red-headed woman and a man who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world - appeared on the stairs behind him. "Definitely America!" 

 

"Don’t shoot!" the woman exclaimed, skidding to a halt and yanking her hands into the air as well. The action made her tight top - shoulder-free, partly see-through and far, far too light for this time of the year - ride up her abdomen and the heavy gold bracelets adorning her wrists jingle. 

 

"Very much not in the need of getting shot!" the second man affirmed, raising his hands and hunching his shoulders defensively. For some incomprehensible reason, he too was dressed as if for high summer, wearing nothing but shorts, a crew-neck t-shirt and a pair of indescribably ugly sandals. 

 

At the apparitions before them, Sam and Dean shared another incredulous look. It would appear that two British tourists and a weird bow-tie wearing guy had just burst into the middle of their hunt. 

 

"Who the friggin hell are you people?" Dean eventually barked out, not lowering his gun. 

 

Squinting slightly against the glare of the Winchesters’ flashlights, the first man shuffled forwards and began to wave his still-raised hands. "Good question! Excellent question, even! We’re special agents. On loan from Scotland Yard. Codename: the Doctor. These are agents Amy and Rory. And we are investigating! Investigating-"  he floundered for a moment, then swept his hand around the dilapidated house in a general motion "-this. Yes, investigating this. Very serious. May I just -"

 

Gesturing placatingly with one hand, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew a battered old ID case. Inching carefully closer to the two brothers, he let it fall open with a flourish. 

 

Raising a doubtful eyebrow, and not lowering his gun in the slightest, Dean reached for the proffered ID. In the unsteady light of Sam’s torch, he stared at the small print, the generic photo and the official government symbols adorning the piece of paper. He’d never seen a Scotland Yard badge but - 

 

"Gotta hand it to you, man," he snorted, finally letting his hand fall to his side and returning the ID to its owner. "I’ve seen a lotta fake badges in my time and that one’s well done. So who are you people? Really. I mean - you sure as hell ain’t hunters." 

 

The 'Doctor’s' smile, bright at Dean’s initial praise, fell into a disappointed frown. "What do you mean 'fake'?" he asked, indignantly. "This is as good as it gets! Psychic paper! What’s wrong with you?" 

 

"Psychic -?" Dean started to ask, staring at the huffing man with the flappy hair now shaking his fake badge as if to see if it was broken. Mid-question he seemingly realised the futility of this avenue of pursuit. Instead, he turned to the scantily dressed woman. "What the hell is he going on about?! And where did you come from?" 

 

"We’re just - we’re just travelers. We ended up here by accident," she offered nervously. Shaking her auburn curls from her face she shot Dean an attempt at a winning smile. "So if you could just let us get back to our ship, we’ll be off. Leave you - to whatever you were doing." 

 

"Hold on - you came here on a ship?" Sam finally jumped into the conversation, also lowering his gun. "And what do you mean 'travelers'?" 

 

The woman - Amy - gave a nervous laugh. "Well, you see - it’s kinda complicated. The Doctor -" She jerked her head towards the man currently cradling the fake ID to his ear - "travels through time. Oh and space. In a spaceship. Cause he’s an alien and he has this spaceship that kind of looks like a box. A blue box. You know one of those old-timey Police boxes." 

 

Glancing at the Winchester brothers, Amy found nothing but matching looks of utter incredulity on their faces, but decided to push ahead with her explanation anyways. "Of course you don’t. Being American and all. Sorry. Anyways - big blue box, bigger on the inside, travels anywhere, anytime. And we were just going to Egypt. 14th century BC actually. Hence the get-up." As if hoping that her outfit would corroborate her claim, she jiggled her gold ornaments.

 

For a moment, intense silence reigned the dilapidated living room of the haunted house. Then, Dean turned back towards Sam, running a tired hand across his face in exasperated confusion. "If I didn’t know that Gabriel’s dead, he’d be my bet," he muttered to his brother. Taking a deep breath as if to steel himself for more crazy, he turned back towards the odd trio, focussing his eyes on the second man. Average build, slightly intimidated-looking, giving off a vibe of wanting to vanish into thin air. His shirt was plaid. He seemed to be the sensible one. 

 

"Mind explaining what these two are on about?" Dean asked with what he thought was remarkable patience. 

 

Taking a shuddering breath, the second man took a moment to answer, glancing nervously at the Winchesters’ guns. "They’re telling the truth. We are traveling around time. And space. I know it seems unbelievable." He gave a helpless shrug. "I didn’t believe it at first either." 

 

"Dean!" Sam’s insistent tone caught the elder Winchester’s attention and he turned around, only to find his younger brother shooting him a meaningful glance. "Maybe they really are telling the truth. We’ve traveled to the past as well." 

 

"Oh come on Sammy - seriously! Twice! That was twice and only cause the Angels zapped us around!" He gestured exasperatedly at the trio behind him, as if trying to point out the ridiculousness of the idea that these three weird goofy Brits had angel powers. 

 

But the Brits were goofy no longer. As if a switch had been flipped, they snapped to attention.  Amy and Rory shot an intimidated glance at the Doctor, who in turn stuffed his fake ID back into his jacket pocket and turned to stare at the Winchesters with unprecedented intensity. When he spoke again, his voice had lost its playful, puppy-like enthusiasm and its low pitch and steady timber actually reminded Dean strangely of Cas. 

 

"What do you mean 'the angels zapped you around'?" 

 

Feeling slightly disoriented by the abrupt shift in the tone of their conversation, Dean looked back at the suddenly serious man and raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Look pal, I don’t know how time-travel works with you - but when we pop back into the past, it’s cause an Angel touches us." 

 

"So you’ve met the Angels?" The Doctor asked, incredulity lurking under his superficially neutral tone and Dean suddenly couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else there. Knowledge. Power. Suddenly the bubbly British guy in a bow tie had ceased to be amusing, instead radiating a grim aura of menace. 

 

Dean being Dean, with his Winchester-like lack of self-preservation, still managed to huff a cocky laugh. "Sure have. Dicks with wings, most of them." 

 

The Doctor advanced towards the Winchesters, staring at them testily. "If the Angels sent you into the past, how come you’re here? Or are you actually from the future?" 

 

"No," Sam answered, looking intrigued. "We’re in the right time. Our time. We got the Angels to send us back. Well - this one Angel really. He’s our friend. Listen, about your ship -"

 

"What do you mean 'your friend'?!" the Doctor burst out, anger simmering under the surface of his voice. "Angels don’t make friends. They are predators. Assassins. And you expect me to believe that you just _convinced_ them to send you back to the future?!"  

 

Despite being a good two inches shorter than Dean, the bow-tie wearing man seemed to tower over the Winchesters, with the air of a storm about to break loose. However, despite the tension crackling in the air, Dean could not contain his temper. 

 

"Listen, man. Believe us, don’t believe us - I don’t really care. I don’t even know who you are. And yeah most of the angels are dicks - but not all of them." Drawing himself up to his full height, he stared down at the Doctor, voice rising. He was pissed. "Our friend - _Cas -_ has helped us out of a lot of messed-up situations and I trust him with my life. So don’t you go calling him an assassin or a predator or some other kind of shit." 

 

For a moment, Dean and the Doctor stood toe-to-toe, glaring at each other. Then the tension was broken when a new, deep voice echoed across the room. 

 

"Thank you, Dean." 

 

Both Winchesters and the three Brits spun around at the sudden intrusion - only to be faced with an inconspicuous man in a trench coat. 

 

"Hello Dean," the man said evenly, looking intently at the older Winchester with a slightly-tilted head and the hint of a smile. 

 

"Cas! What are you doing here?" Sam blurted out, lowering the gun that had snapped back up when he’d been startled. 

 

Never moving his eyes away from Dean, Cas answered in the same level voice: "You called me." 

 

"No I didn’t," Dean immediately protested, flushing slightly. "I was just yelling at this guy and your name came up. You gotta fine-tune your angel radio, buddy. Cas -?"

 

But Cas’ attention had shifted to the Doctor when Dean had gestured towards him. Advancing a few steps, he stared at him, tilting his head further and seeming to look right through him. 

 

"You are not of this world," he observed eventually. 

 

The Doctor scoffed a little, stared right back and casually straightened his bow-tie. "Well, neither are you." 

 

"I am an Angel of the Lord," Castiel responded in his trademark gravelly voice, clearly aiming to intimidate. 

 

The Doctor, however, only snorted in amusement. "Nice try - I _am_ the Lord. The Lord of Time. Now let’s see here -" And without further ado, he reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket and fished out a small, longish stick, which lit up at the press of a button and made an off-key buzzing sound as it was waved over Cas. 

 

For a few moments, all occupants of the room stared at the Doctor intently waving his buzzing stick. Then, Dean rolled his eyes. 

 

"Come on man. He’s not a ghost. That EMF meter won’t do shit for you," he shot at the Doctor irritatedly. His objection, however, went entirely ignored as the floppy-haired man continued to circle Cas, who was following his movements with a raised eyebrow and his signature slightly-cocked-head. Heaving an annoyed sigh, the hunter settled on glaring at the odd man instead. 

 

"So -" Sam, started awkwardly, turning towards the plaid-clad Brit. "You said you came here on a ship?" 

 

The man - Rory - gave him a nervous sideways glance. "Yeah. It’s upstairs. It’s a sort of box that’s bigger on the inside. And it travels through time and space. We’ve been to other planets, seen all kind of things. Monsters - like we met outta-space vampires in 16th century Venice. It’s hard - hard to explain. Even harder to believe." 

 

"But it’s also incredibly amazing." At this point, the red-headed woman decided to cut in, slinging an arm around Rory’s shoulders and leaning onto him. "Since I started traveling with the Doctor, I’ve seen things I could never have imagined. Other galaxies, different eras. Adventures that - just changed who I am." There was a mischievous sparkle and boundless fondness in her eyes as she looked over at the Doctor, who had stopped buzzing Cas and was now staring at his stick as if it could provide all the answers in the universe. 

 

"See- the Doctor doesn’t believe that your friend is an Angel. Because the Angels we know - the _Weeping Angels_ \- are sort of statues that come to life when you don’t look at them. And they zap you back in time and suck the life out of you if they don’t kill you straight away," Amy explained. "Poof - and you’re gone," she added, snapping her fingers when Sam’s eyebrows rose in incredulity. 

 

"They’re quantum-locked!" the Doctor cut in from across the room, shoving his stick back into his inner pocket with a frustrated huff. "They only look like statues. And they don’t suck the life out of you. They feed off temporal energy," he corrected while pacing towards where Amy, Rory and Sam stood. "And your friend is not one of them - but the Sonic also can’t identify what he is." 

 

"Look, pal! I don’t really give a crap if you believe us or not, but if you could get out of our friggin way, that would be great. We’ve got a hunt to finish," Dean bit at the British trio, gesturing with his gun for emphasis. 

 

"Dean -" Sam said, walking over to his brother and Cas and glancing out the window behind them. 

 

"Hold on - what do you mean 'hunt'?!" the Doctor interjected, eyeing the Winchesters and Cas even more suspiciously than before. "What are you hunting for?" 

 

"Monsters. Generally," Dean shot back. "But today it seems like there’s a cursed object somewhere in this junkyard and it’s vanishing people. So we’re going after it. And you three are in our way." 

 

"Dean -" Sam tried again, sounding slightly worried. 

 

"What do you mean you 'hunt monsters'?" The Doctor asked, closing in on Dean with an air of menace. "What do you do with them when you find them?" 

 

Dean snorted and raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Well, we sure as hell don’t sit down and have a stirring conversation about life choices with them, man. We gank them. It’s what hunters do. Saving people. Hunting things." 

 

Electricity seemed to crackle in the air as the Doctor stared at Dean with absolute contempt, fury burning in his eyes. 

 

"Dean!" Sam straight-out shouted, finally getting his brother’s attention. 

 

Secretly glad for any reason to look away from the incandescent Brit in front of him, Dean turned towards the younger Winchester with an irritated "What is it now, Sammy?" 

 

But Sam wasn’t looking at Dean, staring out the window at the moonlit garden instead. 

 

"Amy? You said that - that the Angels, _your_ Angels look like statues, right? At least while someone’s looking at them?" There was a slight tremor in his voice, one that Dean recognised all too well. It meant that his little brother sensed danger. Immediately, he was on full alert. 

 

"That’s right," the red-head answered, seemingly sensing the tension and sounding slightly intimidated herself. "Why?" 

 

Sam swallowed and pointed out the window towards the statue under which he and Dean had stopped earlier. "Because there used to be an angel sitting on that horse." 

 

At the words of the younger Winchester, an electric shock seemed to rock through the room. Dean strode over to his brother’s side, Cas behind him, and followed his gaze. Sammy was right. Of the ugly-ass statue of the angel on the horse, only the horse-part was left. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, half in shock and half in anger, pounding the windowsill to vent his frustrations. 

 

"Are you saying there is an Angel here? A Weeping Angel?" the Doctor demanded, striding over to the window as well. 

 

"Well. People vanishing without a trace. Now the statue moving. Sounds like your kind of deal," Sam responded, turning towards the Brits. "How do we kill it?" 

 

But the Doctor had already burst into action. "Eyes on the windows and doors!" he shouted, pulling out his buzzing stick again and proceeding to wave it around the room. 

 

Both of his companions spun around immediately, fixing their eyes on the two doors that led into the dilapidated living room from the ground floor. 

 

Dean released the safety catch on his gun and gave Cas a warning glance. "How do we kill it, Doctor?" he shot at the man still spinning around the room. "HOW?!" he shouted when his question got no response. 

 

The Doctor came to a standstill at the centre of the room and lowered his buzzing stick. "We don’t." 

 

"Come again?!" Dean barked in irritation. 

 

"The Angels can’t be killed," the Doctor explained, eyes scanning the room intently, looking for any sign of their enemy. "When you look at them, they are made of stone. And you can’t kill a stone. The perfect defense mechanism." 

 

Total silence descended on the room as Sam and Dean stared at the man in the bow tie and the temperature seemed to drop sharply. 

 

"No creature in existence is immortal," Castiel’s low voice eventually rumbled out from where he still stood by the window. "My father did not create such a being. He -" 

 

Dean spun around when Cas broke off abruptly, finally looking away from the Doctor to ask what his friend meant. 

 

But Castiel was gone. 

 

And in his place, framed by an open window and icy air streaming into the house, stood a stone angel with an outstretched hand. 

 

"CAS!" Dean exclaimed at the same time that the Doctor bellowed "DON’T BLINK!" 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Where’s Cas?!" Dean demanded, gun raised and safety catch released. 

 

"I’m sorry," the Doctor said quietly. "He’s gone." 

 

"Gone where?!" Dean barked, not looking away from the statue. 

 

"Back in time. The Weeping Angel consumed his temporal energy and sent him back. I’m sorry. He’s gone." 

 

"NO!" A series of gunshots rang trough the room as Dean emptied a whole round at the statue. The bullets hardly seemed to chip at the stone and Dean’s anger only flared at the lack of response his attack elicited. "Bring him back you son of a bitch!" 

 

"Dean!" Sam shouted over the echo of his brother's gunshots. "It’s not doing anything. You’re not hurting it!" 

 

"You _can’t_ hurt them," the Doctor insisted angrily. "They can’t _be_ hurt. They can’t _be_ killed." 

 

Sam glanced at him in confusion. "So what _can_ we do?" 

 

"We run," the Doctor growled. 

 

"Ain’t gonna happen," Dean bit out angrily. "I’m not running anywhere. We’re going to find a way to kill these sons of bitches. And we’re going to find a way to bring back Cas. You can take us to wherever they sent him in your spaceship - timeship, whatever." 

 

"I can’t. I’m sorry," the Doctor answered, his voice low and filled with regret. "It would create a paradox. A spatio-temporal paradox that could rip apart the universe. Your friend is gone. I’m sorry. I truly am. But there’s nothing I-" 

 

"NO!" Dean cut in. "He’s _not_ gone. Cas is our _friend._ He’s _family._ And we’re going to get him back.  We’re not leaving him behind. If there’s a chance - _any chance_ that he’s still alive, I’m going to look for him and I’m damn well going to find him." 

 

At the last couple of words, Dean’s voice wavered and almost broke. His eyes were red-rimmed, lips pressed into a tight line and Sam sighed at the sight of his brother’s grief at losing Cas. Even if those two were not aware of the depth of their feelings for each other, Sam knew. Sam had always known. And he would do anything in his power to help his brother get Cas back. 

 

„Thank you, Dean.“ 

 

For the second time that evening, everyone flinched and spun around when Cas’ deep voice interrupted the tense silence. 

 

The rustle of wings that usually accompanied the angel’s arrival had seemingly been drowned out by the argument between Dean and the Doctor. Now, looking slightly more ruffled than he had a minute before, the trench-coated man stood and stared at Dean with almost painful fondness, a happy smile playing around the corners of his mouth. 

 

The hunter swallowed hard. "Cas! It’s good to see you, man! But how -"

 

At his human’s confused stuttering, Cas could not contain his smirk and stepped closer. 

 

"I am an angel of the Lord, Dean. I can travel in time. However, when that creature sent me back to the beginning of the time, it took me a moment to gain my bearings before I could return to you." 

 

Dean continued to stare at the man before him, too stunned to even perfunctorily admonish him about the invasion of his personal space. 

 

"The beginning of -?" he croaked out. 

 

"Of time, yes. I have told you before, I always come when you call. And I shall always return to your side." 

 

At Cas’ words, spoken as if they were the most obvious thing in the universe, a blush crept up Dean’s neck and he cleared his throat, taking a step back and clapping Cas awkwardly on the shoulder. "Well -I’m glad you’re back, buddy." 

 

"Are they - a thing?" Amy asked in a not-quite whisper, leaning closer to Sam and making a rather suggestive hand gesture. 

 

The younger Winchester shook his head emphatically. "We don’t talk about that." 

 

"But that’s impossible!" the Doctor exclaimed, staring at Castiel as if he had just grown a second head. Come to think of it, the Doctor would probably have been a lot more comfortable if Cas _had_ suddenly sprouted a second had. Rather than popping back to the present and evading a temporal paradox as if it was no big deal. "What are you?!" he demanded, the shock still evident in his voice. 

 

In response, a dangerous, smug look flashed across Cas’ face and he lowered his head, slightly extending his hands on either side of his body. 

 

Dean flinched and hastily took a few steps backward - he had seen that look before, years ago, in a barn in Illinois. He knew what was coming. 

 

Static electricity crackled in the air and the lights of the Winchester’s torches flickered as the booming noise of thunder echoed around the room and two gigantic shadows manifested behind Castiel, framing his human form in the likeness of his wings. 

 

Sam gasped and stumbled to the side, Amy let out a little yelp and hung onto Rory, who stared at the spectacle in front of him open-mouthed. The Doctor too stared at the creature in front of him in stunned silence. As the only one who had been remotely prepared for the sudden appearance of Castiel’s wings, Dean kept a transfixed gaze on the enormous appendages. The first time he had seen them, he had been too shocked to take in the image properly. After all these years it was easy to forget that Cas wasn’t human, but now, letting his eyes roam over the black expanse of the shadowy wings before him, tracing the outlines of feathers, he was all too aware of it. 

 

A few heartbeats later, it was over. The flickering lights steadied, the thunder subsided and the electricity seemed to be sucked out of the air. 

 

Only the smug expression on Cas’ face remained and it seemed to intensify as he took in the look on Dean’s face. 

 

Another few moments passed before the Doctor gulped in a few lungfuls of air and straightened his bow-tie. "Right. Yes. That was …new." 

 

"Hold on!“ Amy cut in. "Are you saying that Angels and Devils and God and all that is actually real?" 

 

Tearing his eyes away from the elder Winchester, Castiel looked over at Amy. "Indeed they are." 

 

A few moments of silence passed as the three Brits processed that bit of new information before a shaky voice interrupted. 

 

"Guys - what about the other angel though?" Ever the pragmatic one, Rory had seemingly decided that earth-shattering theological revelations could be dealt with later. He was staring fixedly at the empty space in front of the still-open living room window. " _Our_ angel I mean, the "Weeping Angel. It’s gone.“ 

 

One by one Amy, the Doctor, Cas and the Winchesters realized that Rory was right. In the storm of confusion following Cas’ unexpected return and his interlude demonstration of angelic prowess, the monster had vanished unnoticed. 

 

"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled in frustration. "Where did it go?!" 

 

As if to answer his question, there was a crashing noise from upstairs. 

 

"The TARDIS!" the Doctor shouted and began to race for the stairs. "If it gets inside, the universe is lost!"

 

A split second later, Amy and Rory followed the Doctor, closely tailed by Sam. When they arrived at the top of the creaky wooden stairs, they found the Doctor facing the angel statue, whose face was twisted into a horrible, fanged snarl. It had its fingers wrapped around the handle of the door of a blue phone box that stood in the splintered remains of an armoire into which it had seemingly crashed earlier. The box's door was slightly ajar. 

 

"What do we do, Doctor?" Amy asked breathlessly. "How do we get it away from the TARDIS?!" 

 

When the Doctor didn’t answer, Amy rambled on: "Should we blink, maybe? So that it can move towards us?" 

 

At this suggestion, the Doctor vehemently shook his head. "If we blink, only for a second, it goes inside. And if it has the TARDIS - the temporal energy, what they could do with it - it’s -" 

 

"So then we drag it away?" Rory suggested shakily. "Or would we get sent back in time if we touch it?!" 

 

Not taking his eyes off the Angel and the phonebox, the Doctor grimaced and tilted his head. "Maybe. Not sure." 

 

"Maybe?!" Amy echoed shrilly. 

 

"So we can’t touch it. We can’t move it away. If we blink, it goes inside. What do we _do_?" Rory asked, rising panic in his voice. "Doctor!" 

 

A second later, heavy footsteps thumped up the stairs. 

 

"Keep looking at it and get out of my way!" Dean bellowed as he thundered down the corridor. Amy, Rory, Sam and the Doctor jumped aside barely in time to see the elder Winchester fly past them, the blur of a big instrument brandished behind his back as he took a swing and aimed. 

 

The crunch of breaking stone echoed through the hall as Dean’s sledgehammer impacted on the Weeping Angel’s head and ripped off half its face. Another swing, another crack and its right wing was gone. 

 

The Doctor, Amy, Rory and Sam stared in stunned silence as Dean smashed the stone statue into increasingly smaller bits. It seemed that he was still angry at the creature for zapping Cas back a couple of billion years, for the strength he displayed in demolishing the creature was obviously driven by righteous fury. 

 

A few moments later, Cas ambled up to the group, still looking smug as he watched Dean tear into the broken pieces of marble as if avenging him. 

 

It was only when no Angel pieces larger than a forlorn thumb remained that Dean slowed down. His jeans were covered in marble dust and sweat was dripping down his face and back. As he turned and finally dropped the sledgehammer, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled under his shirt, taut with exertion. 

 

"Found this baby downstairs," he panted, nudging the hammer with his foot. "Workmen must have left it behind. Turned out it wasn’t so hard to gank the son of a bitch after all." 

 

The Doctor looked from the pile of rubble at the Winchester’s feet, to Dean’s satisfied expression, to the heavy sledgehammer leaning against the wall. "Well -" he gesticulated forlornly, "I suppose if you _must_ insist on employing brute force…" he broke off, seemingly struggling for words. 

 

Dean inclined his head as if to say _Seriously, man?_ and settled for a smug: "Well, brute force has always worked for me, right Cas?" 

 

Cas stared back at Dean, a proud smirk tugging at his lips. 

 

"Are you sure there’s nothing going on between -" Amy started in a low voice, leaning close to Sam once more. 

 

The younger Winchester could only heave an exasperated sigh. 

 

"Thank you," the Doctor finally said to Dean. "I mean it. You got us out of a bit of a pickle here. Not that I couldn’t have managed it myself, of course…" 

 

"Whatever you say, man." Dean snorted and wiped his forehead, stepping away from the rubble and walking over to clap Castiel on the shoulder. "Another creepy bastard dead, got my Sammy and my Cas - all’s good in my book." A moment later, Dean seemed to realize what he had just accidentally said. "I didn’t mean _my_ Cas - I - I just. Like -" he hastily backpaddled. 

 

Sam snorted, Amy hid an amused giggle behind her hand and Cas smirked at the flush creeping up Dean’s neck. 

 

"It’s alright, Dean," he said evenly. 

 

"Well!" the Doctor smiled and clapped his hands together, spinning back towards the TARDIS. "As much fun as this was, we’ve got to get going. The Pyramids might be around for a couple of millennia still, but I promised Queen Nefreteti I’d be back by teatime. Better not keep her waiting - she gets grumpy when she’s hungry. Come on you lot!"

 

At a wave of the Doctor’s hand, Amy and Rory hurried over to his side. Rory waved goodbye awkwardly and vanished into the interior of the mysterious blue box. Amy leaned against the half-open door for a moment and looked back at the Winchesters and Castiel. 

 

"Bye boys! I hope to see you again sometime. Until then -" Amy smiled mischievously at Dean and let her eyes glide over to Cas a second later - "have fun!" With those parting words and an accompanying suggestive wink, she too was gone, leaving Dean spluttering indignantly at her implication. 

 

"Here. Take this," the Doctor said to Sam, holding out a folded piece of paper and completely ignoring Dean’s flustered state. 

 

"What’s this?" the younger Winchester glanced at the proffered paper skeptically. 

 

The Doctor beamed at him. "I owe you a favour. This is a way to contact me. If you ever need help on a case. Or if you fancy taking a spin through time and space - call me. It seems you boys love a good adventure." 

 

Even through his embarrassment, Dean saw the way his baby brothers’ eyes lit up. Yes, exploring all of history and the universe definitely seemed to be something that his geeky Sammy would be up for. The Doctor too could seemingly sense the younger hunter’s enthusiasm when he reached for the piece of paper and nodded his thanks. 

 

With a last grin and a mock salute, the Doctor spun on his heels and almost bounced back inside the blue box. 

 

For a few moments, nothing happened. Then, the strange wheezing noise the Winchesters had heard earlier that evening blared into life again as at the blue light on top of the box began to flare rhythmically. 

 

Before the hunters’ eyes, the blue Police box vanished into nothingness, leaving behind only broken furniture, a pulverized weeping angel and the promise of future adventures. 

 

— 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think! Comments make my day. ;)


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